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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Why I'm glad to know you, Mr. Sternford," he exclaimed. Then a quick, enquiring upward glance of his shrewd eyes suggested recollection. "But say you ain't Sternford of Labrador? The groundwood outfit up at up at " "Sachigo?" "That's it, sure. Guess I'd lost the name a moment." Bull nodded amusedly. "Yes. That's where I hail from. And, as you say, there's big stuff up there, too." "Big?
It was this last act that Bat contemplated now. And he hated it. He knew well enough he must go. There was no sane alternative. The power station was the prepared fortress. It had everything in it that must be guarded and fought for. But his fierce regret was none the less for the knowledge. Then, too, his regret was for something else. It was at the absence of Bull Sternford.
Bull Sternford had turned back from the window. He was smiling again. "Yes?" The girl was all eager attention. "I was wondering," Bull went on. "Maybe you'll' fancy hearing how things are fixed after I see Peterman?" "I'll be ever so glad. There's the 'phone. You can get me most any time after business hours. I don't go out much. Nancy broke off to glance out of the window.
Once, in a light moment, Bull Sternford had declared that male human nature in the "bunch" was the ugliest thing in the world. Had he witnessed that sea of faces, so intently, so anxiously turned towards the leaders they had presumably elected, he must have been well satisfied with the truth of his conviction.
Idepski's smiling interrogation was full of satisfaction. "Go on." The watchful eyes of the financier seemed to have narrowed. "Now, by what chance does this feller, Bull Sternford, come straight from one hell of a scrap in a far-off camp belonging to Skandinavia to run the business end of Sachigo? What happened after that fool missionary got him away? And " Idepski broke off, pondering.
Then he came up behind the chair on which Bull was seated and hurled his final challenge. "Sternford, sir?" he asked curtly. His victim turned. "Yes." "Wanted on the 'phone, sir." The boy was gone on the run. He had hunted his quarry down. There were still fresh victories to be achieved.
She seemed to find the whole thing an effort. But as the man's dark eyes remained regarding her, and no word of his came to help her, she was forced to go on. "You know my story," she said. "You've heard it all from Mr. Sternford. I know that. You told me so, didn't you?" The man inclined his dark head. "Yes," he said. "I know your story all of it." "Yes." The girl's tea remained untouched.
There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh under the curiously clerical garments he lived in. "Why, right away, child," he said, with simple confidence. "I'll just need to wait for a brief 'freeze-up' to get through the mud around Sachigo. Once on the highlands inside there'll be snow and ice for six weeks or more. I told Sternford this morning I was ready to pull out.
An unlit pipe thrust in the corner of his mouth was the one touch that defeated the efforts of his flowing hair and dark beard to suggest a youthful hermit meditating in the doorway of his retreat. Bull Sternford was seated on another box at the opposite side of the doorway. He, too, had a pipe thrust between his strong jaws. But he was smoking.
She had completely forgotten, in that moment of exultation, the squarely military figure that had passed down the dining-room of the Chateau, and the coldly unsmiling eyes with which it had regarded her as she sat with her companion over their memorable meal. Bull Sternford was reading over the telegram he had just written. Its phraseology was curious.
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